Spectator
by rainywindows
Summary: [RyoSaku one-shot.] There are so many girls who would be better for him than Ryuzaki—including herself. But for some reason those two work.


**A/N:** 'Sup y'all! It's been a while. School has been tough, though it's definitely a lot chiller than last term. It's weird though—I almost don't know what to do with myself now that I have more free time as a senior, since college has perpetually been about working myself to death.

I'm still working on the next chapter of "Bursts of Light" hah... But in the meantime, I pooped out this RyoSaku one-shot that hopefully takes a unique perspective? It incorporates some of the discussions I hear about the couple, and hopefully gives some closure to it. Idk lol.

 **Disclaimer:** Something something I'm not a male mangaka with fabulous hair and legions of fans.

* * *

 **Spectator**

Her route to school is fairly popular. She lives in a central neighborhood not too far from Seigaku. On her morning walks, she often spots black button-ups and mint-green skirts and familiar faces. She usually doesn't mind. Except when she sees _them._

It's the first day of her third year of high school—possibly her last first day ever. A month ago, she had been contacted by a professional tennis team in Australia. She and her parents still haven't decided whether she should apply to college or go pro. She doesn't know if she's ready for either.

She stops by a convenience store to purchase two steam buns. She'll need the energy today, because she'll be doing a lot of yelling at practice. Her girls on the tennis team hate the weight room and always try to lessen their loads when she isn't looking.

As she walks out the store door, a small ring resounding behind her, she spots _them_. They must have gotten slightly ahead of her while she was trying to decide between pork or chicken filling. The girl, with her too-long braids swaying back and forth. The boy, with his confident gait and tousled black-green hair.

The two of them walk in front of her, a little too close to be just friends. Their hands occasionally knock into each other, the girl shivering a little each time. Eventually she tries to do something else with that hand, but he doesn't let her, grabbing it with his.

There's a pang in her heart. Trailing behind them awkwardly, she can almost imagine the satisfied smirk on his face when he envelopes Ryuzaki's small hand, like the grin that appears whenever he wins one of his matches. She knows it too well, having memorized every crease during the past five years of their acquaintance.

Knows it and can't help but to adore it. It's a confidence she wishes she has when she plays. Having been the two aces and now captains of their respective tennis teams at Seigaku, they've always been nearly neck and neck in accomplishment. But her own neurotic self-loathing is what drives her tennis. A fervent self-love is what drives his. God, he's amazing, she breathes into herself. Amazing and surreal.

Ryuzaki and Echizen, they had started dating in the middle of last year. She had pretended to be happy about it, since everyone around her seemed to be. _Finally,_ they had all said. _It's about time_ _after four years of will they or won't they._

But she's never understood why everyone thinks the most talented player on the junior high and now high school circuit belongs with that doormat of a girl. All Ryuzaki ever did was trail after him like a lovesick puppy, cooking meals, and making cheer signs that he barely seemed to notice. Doesn't he want to be with an equal? Doesn't he want some sort of pushback? From someone like—well, like her?

Ryuzaki lives near her. They've often seen each other throughout the years on the way to school. But it isn't until last semester that Echizen starts showing up every day as well. At first it feels like a bad joke, the gag reel accentuated by her classmate's semi-weekly knee scrapes while holding hands with her boyfriend. But then it just hurts. Hurts like hell. Hurts like Ryuzaki's knees.

She walks faster now, onto the street to make her way past their wide berth on the sidewalk above. They notice her. Echizen gives a curt nod, what she's always gotten from him. Ryuzaki hesitates, then lifts a hand to give a respectful wave. There's always been distance between them, between the barely competent senior subregular and the exalted captain of the girl's team.

She's always let that distance stay, because there will always be winners and losers. But who's the winner now? She doesn't want to think about that as she hurries toward school. Only couples know how to enjoy a slow morning commute.

* * *

It's lunchtime now. She's already finished the too-healthy bento that her mom makes for her while she's in training. Now there's nothing to do but sit beside the window sill and brainstorm team line-up strategies. The tennis courts below are beautiful when they're empty, when they're viewed from three stories up. The crisp lines match the ones she dreams of, match the court she imagines on her ceiling at night when she can't sleep.

Next to the courts are the vending machines, just a few steps away from the bulletin boards. Too close, she's always thought. Her girls are constantly hydrating themselves with Pocari Sweat or Ponta instead of water, so she's been petitioning the principal for months to have them moved.

But speaking of Ponta, there he is, strolling to the machines, cutting a now taller, more impressive figure than when he first arrived at Seigaku as a twelve year old. And there besides him is Ryuzaki, of course.

She wants to look away, but she can't. There's something tempting about this sort of spying. And when she squints, when she ignores the long hazel braids, the two figures below are small enough that Ryuzaki could be any girl. Could be her.

He's about to pull out his wallet, but Ryuzaki stops him. She says something, grinning at him a little shyly. He stares at her, then shrugs. Now she's pulling out her wallet. She looks proud, triumphant for some reason, as if she's paying him back for some long-standing debt.

She's feeding in coins. One, two. Then she pauses. Looks up at him, then looks back down and sifts her fingers through the coin pouch, now more frantically. Finally, he grabs her arm, barely able to keep in his snickers. He seems to be saying something along the lines of _this always happens_. And she's looking hilariously, adorably distraught.

He takes out his wallet again, feeds in a coin. But then he seems to realize something as well. He's in disbelief. He turns his wallet upside down. Nothing comes out. And now she's the one holding back peals of laughter.

He looks a little put out, that expression he gets when he just might lose an official match for the first time. He gives the vending machine a petulant shove, as if hoping it would magically release two Pontas for the penniless couple. She gestures back toward the classrooms, seeming to say that it isn't worth it.

Oh, but now he's fired up, in the way that only someone who went to the U.S. Open as a junior high schooler can be. He feels in his other pocket and pulls out a bright yellow tennis ball. He doesn't have a racket, so he takes three steps back. He slings his arm backward, as if a baseball player, and hurls the ball at the machine.

From the window sill three stories above, she's watching them, thinking that perhaps now she no longer needs the principal's help getting those vending machines out of commission.

Unfortunately, the machine is not compelled into releasing Pontas. Instead, the ball bounces right back, right toward Echizen. And as if he's lost all coordination now that he's without a racket, he stands there and takes a hit straight into the eye.

Ryuzaki runs to him but he brushes her off as he looks left and right to see if any of their classmates have seen him. But again she tackles him, cooing over his eye (it's always his eye, isn't it?), taking out her girly handkerchief and wetting it with her water bottle. He's ducking this way and that, but she's relentless.

Until finally he wraps her in a tight embrace, stunning her into paralysis so he can toss the handkerchief out of the way. They stay like that for a minute, then two, neither of them talking. Eventually he lets go and grabs her hand to head back, because the bell signaling the end of lunch will ring soon. Even though neither of them has gotten a taste of Ponta, they don't seem to mind.

She stays at the window sill a while longer after they've disappeared from view. Maybe she's starting to understand. She's never seen this fallible side of Echizen, dumb enough to injure himself with his own ball. He seems to only want Ryuzaki to see it, as if her clumsiness, her shortcomings free him. Perhaps he's always been destined to be with someone abysmally bad at tennis. Tennis is his passion and lifeblood, but maybe he needs someone who can show him the rest of the world.

She goes back to her desk and opens her folder, pulling out the professional contract that's been sent to her. Perhaps the male prodigies in Australia will give her a chance, unlike the ones here. Or perhaps, she'll find her own tennis dunce to love there.

~XX~

* * *

 **A/N:** Hope y'all enjoyed that! Reviews, constructive criticism, and follows/faves are always a treat!

Here's a song rec: "My Youth" by Time Is Yours. You can probably find it on Spotify or Youtube or something.

ALSO I have a Tumblr: **rainywindows101 DOT tumblr DOT com** (FF doesn't allow you to post links, just paste this url but replace the DOTs with actual dots)

It basically consists of writing updates, idiotic Rikkai posts, and potential dismay at my transition to real adulthood.

xoxo rainywindows


End file.
